


our will is our weapon, our hearts forever bound

by Cypherr



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kinda, Oneshot, Self-Harm, i promise its not that serious, the tags make this seem so much worse than it is, written before december 2nd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:40:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27821635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cypherr/pseuds/Cypherr
Summary: Tommy would not take his exile lying down like a dog.//title from 'The Dead South' by The Dead South//
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Ranboo & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 16
Kudos: 710





	our will is our weapon, our hearts forever bound

**Author's Note:**

> I just want you to know that this is saved in my computer as "haha Tommy angst go brrrrr"  
> also, I wrote 98% of this yesterday but I fell asleep so I'm posting it today instead. I speed ran this so fucking hard- I spent 3 hours MAX

If you would have told him less than a month ago that Tubbo would have betrayed him, he wouldn't have believed you. He'd call you batshit insane and probably fight you, to be honest. (He had fought so hard for Tubbo. Took care of him after he respawned in Pogtopia after the festival- his injuries were horrifying. Bur scares trailed up the left side of his body and face, blinding him almost entirely in his left eye.) Then, he was public enemy number one. Then, both of his brothers betrayed him (or so he thought) and his dad wasn't much help either. But it was okay. Tubbo was president and, sure, he'd accepted the role of vice, but that was because it was Tommy and Tubbo until the end of time!... Right? But he wanted his discs. He was tired of people holding power over him. He just wanted the things that made him happy so he could live in peace (as peaceful as the great TommyInnit could manage, anyway.)

It was him and Ranboo. It was fun. And sure, it got a little out of hand once the roof burned down, but it was fine! It wasn't the worst thing he's done, and it certainly is not the worst thing anyone on the server has ever done. (So many of his builds had been lost to griefing- more so than anyone else, he'd reckon.) It was fine. It _should have been_ fine.

But Dream had his own agenda and he had put himself right in his awaiting grasp.

Now he was gone. TommyInnit, founding father of both L'manburg and New L'manburg, exiled once again.

Techno was right, in the end. (He always was. He should have known.) Governments were corrupted. Power corrupted, no matter who was at the helm- even Tubbo. His best friend who _chose willingly_ to _banish_ him. Like the banishment that made his now late brother insane and got Tubbo power in the first place.

He was sixteen, alone, and had only the clothes on his back to his name. 

It was cold. It was winter now, December third to be exact- the day after his exile. He was in his stupid t-shirt, khaki shorts, and red neckerchief while it was _snowing_. The stone beneath him was like ice. (It reminded him of the chilly warmth of the Antarctic empire, where wars were for fun and his family was whole.) _He_ was cold, and he wasn't sure if it was entirely from the weather. (His blood was frozen in his veins, heart a gaping maw in his chest. He wasn't even angry anymore. He wasn't sure he could call it sad either, though. He just... _was_.)

He thinks he might be bleeding. He wasn't sure from where. There was blood crusted under his bitten-down nails and his arms were a deep red. (He'd been gouging rivets into his arms for the past hour. He wasn't sure when he stopped feeling.)

Where was he to go from here? He had nothing and only himself to trust. Father- Phil- was there at the trial and he hadn't received so much as a _whisper_ from the man. (It's okay, though. He was never the favorite.) Technoblade, well Techno had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with him. Made it clear when he'd told him to die like the hero he'd just become. He was Theseus, and Techno had predicted it, word for fucking word. Wilbur was _dead_ , and it was nigh impossible to track his amnesic ghost down on a good day.

He'd never been alone before. NOt that he could remember, anyway. He'd been taken in by Phil before he turned three. He didn't remember the days out, alone, in the server hub. In SMP Earth he had Business Bay and his family, although they ran separate factions. In the Dream SMP he had Tubbo and Wilbur, and then everyone else who joined L'manburg. (Like, who knew Wilbur had had a so? _And_ one that was older than Tommy was. It had been strange to get used to.) When they had been exiled after the election, he had Wilbur, and then he had Techno. And then they got L'manburg back, and Wilbur was dead and Techno was gone, but he still had Tubbo and Phil was sort of there. But now, betrayed by the last person he thought ever would, he had _no one_. (He should have listened to Techno. Should have listened to Wilbur. But he was stupid and naive and he just wanted a _home_.)

His vision was blurry and his cheeks hurt. An attempt to clear his vision with a swipe of a hand revealed that he was crying. When did he start? TommyInnit didn't cry. (He hadn't cried since he was eleven, even if it was difficult at times. He always claimed he was a Big Man, but now that he had been treated like one- for a childlike action, no less- he finally realized how dumb growing up too fast was.) Now that he realized, he couldn't stop the gut-wrenching sobs that tore themselves from his burning throat. It _hurt_. He had been _abandoned_ by _everybody_. He was a stupid fucking child, fuck him, but he wanted to be _treated_ like one for _once_ in his life. He was sixteen. He wanted to go back to his childhood in their farmhouse on their own, private server. He wanted to listen to Wilbur play his guitar and sing softly in the late hours of the night, lulling him to sleep. He wanted to watch Techno farm potatoes for a competition he didn't really understand, and to watch him ruthlessly eliminate his opponents in Hypixel tournaments. He wanted to sit by the fire with Phil, curled into his side, clawed hand in his hair, and wings a blanket of warmth and safety. He'd give anything to return to that.

It was nothing but wishful thinking and painful reminiscing now, though. Phil was cold and calculating and no more likely to give him a hug than a cobblestone wall was. Wilbur was fucking _dead_ , murdered by Phil. (He didn't care what Phil said. It was fucking murder. He had a choice and he made it. He- _they_ \- could have helped Wil.) Techo hated him and no one knew where he had run off to after the disaster that had been November sixteenth.

Had it really been only a few, short months since this all began? Had he really lost everything so quickly?

He drew his knees to his chest, burning his face in them. He was tired. He wanted to go back to the home that no longer existed with people that no longer cared. His arms hurt. (His world went black slowly- shivering, unprotected in the frigid weather. A broken boy alone in a cave.)

-

"Tommy?" There was a hand on his shoulder, keratin cool and palm rough and callused. He shot up out of his dreamless slumber, throwing himself away from the mystery person, eyes wide and unfocused, breaths rapid and skin ice cold.

"G-go away," he stuttered, teeth chattering, back pressed to the jagged wall of stone. Were they finally here to kill him? Had they not done enough? All he could see was a blur of red, pink, and gold in front of him. The figure moved forward, and while their movements may have been slow, Tommy flinched regardless. He knocked his head against the wall behind him, covering his face with his tried but bloody, torn apart arms (that were his own doing the day before), eyes shut painfully tight.

"Tommy, look at me."

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I-I can leave if I'm too close to L'manburg- don't hurt me _please_ ," he cried, panicked and terrified, unbidden tears returning to freeze on his flushed cheeks. He wasn't sure if his trembling was from the biting cold that seeped into his bone marrow, or the adrenaline that rushed through his veins.

His wrists were trapped, torn away from his face with force.

" _Tommy_." He opened his eyes, suddenly face to face with the one and only Technoblade in all his glory. Curly, pink hair tied back in a neatly pleated braid. Tusks that jutted out of his bottom jaw adorned in gold. Crown glistening with a fresh polish and gems gleaming in the low light of the cave. His signature red velvet cape lay draped over one shoulder, white and gold silk shirt fit snug. His ruby red eyes were unreadable- was that concern or malice? He could never tell.

Techno had finally come to kill him. Come to make him die as all heroes do in the end. He was Theseus and Technoblade would be his finale.

"I'm sorry," he whimpered, curling in on himself as best he could with his arms held hostage. (They had started bleeding again- no thanks to the harsh treatment- and the warmth of it was a harsh, unwelcome contrast to the ice that had become his body.)

"You were right and I should've listened. You can- you can kill me now. I've learned my lesson, Techie." He knew he sounded whiney. He was just some sniveling brat, after all. He was just a stupid fucking kid who wanted the world and lost it all.

"Tommy, do shut up." And he shut his fucking trap because anyone who doesn't listen to Technoblade when he's serious is a Notch damned fool. (Techno was bigger- and obviously much more powerful- than every other player thanks to his piglin genes. Nether, the man could pick him up and hold him under a single arm like it was nothing. Not even Wilbur's towering figure ever stood close to the hybrid's.) He was still a sniffling mess, though. Eyes red and puffy, lips quivering, and tears frozen on his bright, flushed face.

"Listen, I just wanted to know why the fuck you were out here alone and unprepared, but I think I can piece it together myself, now. Now- and listen closely when I say this- do you want to come back to my base with me?" The hybrid's tone left no room for argument, and it wasn't like he was speaking to fast for his fear muddled brain to understand, but yet, he was confused. Techno hated him. He wanted him dead. Was this just an overcomplicated ploy? It would be stupid if it was. He didn't think he could _stand_ , let alone fight back against the _Blood God_.

"But-" he started.

"Do you want to go back to my base with me?" He asked once more, gaze boring into the depths of his very fucking soul. He nodded, scared of what his brother could do but terrified at the prospect of being alone again.

Techno let go of his wrists, his large hands now stained with sticky, crimson blood, but he found that he missed the warmth they provided. He blindly reached out, running on pure, childlike instinct, as he grasped Techno's shirt in his tiny (compared to Techno), trembling hands, and burning himself in his chest, shaking and shivering, but the man smelt like _home_. He smelt of iron dust and fireplaces and freshly chopped wood. He was warm, solid, and _there_ , and Tommy was just a scared little kid with no one else to run to.

Techno remained silent as he wrapped his exhausted little brother in his warm, velvet cape, scooping him up and cradling him close like he was the most precious thing in the world. (He was and always would be. To Techno, anyway.)

-

Techno's base was cold, but it was the chilly warmth that had encompassed the Antarctic Empire once upon a time. The fire that roared a few blocks away was soothing, just shy of too much, and the soup that Techno had generously given him was the first hot meal he'd had in days. His brother's cape was still draped across his shoulders like it used to be on cool nights in years long since past. (The ice in his heart had begun to melt.)

The hybrid sat next to him in stoic silence, sipping quietly from a wooden mug filled with... something red. (It was either wine or blood and from previous experience, it was likely the latter. 'It has great nutritional value' he claimed. Tommy always stood by the notion that he did it to be more terrifying than he already was.)

"I'm sorry, Techie," he whispered to the cooling broth in his hands, posture slumped, finally breaking the tense silence that had permeated the room.

"You're a kid, Tommy," his brother's monotone voice rang next to him, pitch smooth and level, quiet but loud in its presence.

"I know," he mumbled. And that got him an incredulous look- well, as incredulous as one can get when your _Technoblade_. He'd spent the last five or so years claiming that he was anything but a child- a 'Big Man' who 'everyone should listen to' because 'he's TommyInnit and he's the best.' This sudden one-eighty was probably a shock to the man who has known him for those years and long before. He just took another sip of his soup, though, continuing to wallow in his self-pity.

"What do you want to do, Tommy?" Techno asked after a moment. Tommy took another to consider. What _did_ he want? He wanted them to _pay_ because _fuck_ , he was so fucking furious that they had the audacity to exile him from the very nation he gave everything for such an arbitrary 'crime.' But, at the same time, did he really want to see it fall? Tubbo was happy, corrupted as he may be. New L'manburg was thriving for now- for as long as Dream allowed it, really. And dad was- das was there (even though he wasn't sure if he was 'dad' or 'Phil' now- not after the shit show everything had been, recently.) So, the question still stood. _What did he want?_

"I don't know." And it was true. He was a mess of conflicted feelings he didn't want to deal with. He wanted to go back in time to before he and Wilbur had left for the Dream SMP. Back when they were still 'Wilby' and 'Techie' and 'Dad' and he was still 'Toms.' He wanted warm summer days spent making flower crowns and wrestling in the dirt. He wanted to beg dad to fly him around the property because he loved the feeling of the wind in his air (it was exhilarating- like nothing else he'd ever experienced.) He wanted to curl up in Wilbur's lap as he sang soft melodies too tragic for him to truly comprehend. He wanted to hand off Techno's shoulders, feet far from the ground as his brother went about his day, grumbling all the while about how much of a brat Tommy was but never once making a move to remove him. He knew what he wanted, but he didn't know what he wanted to _do_ about it.

"Hmm." Classic fucking Technoblade. He was a big man of few words (although he usually didn't understand the words he did speak, anyway. They were long and complicated and didn't roll off the tongue very well. He reckoned he'd have an easier time understanding that weird, garbled End language Phil spoke sometimes than understanding the literature or whatever the fuck Techno would rant about.)

"I'm Tired, Tech. I wanna go home," he muttered into his knees, setting the empty bowl down onto the floor in front of him. He was exhausted both mentally and physically. He didn't really have anyone left on his side. (Could he _really_ trust Techno? He was a man of his own ambitions and stopped to aid no one in their personal endeavors unless it benefited him personally.) It had really taken a toll on him and he understood Wilbur now, more than he ever wanted to- more than he ever thought he _could_. He got the paranoia. The all-encompassing fear that it would be forever. The madness that festered in the edges of your mind and took over before you could even recognize it. The want- no, the _need_ \- to burn it all to the fucking ground. (To burn yourself to the ground along with it.)

Techno just pulled him into his side, arm heavy but comforting in its weight. He still smelt of firewood, but now there was the smell of freshly cooked salmon and the distinctive scent of snow. It was nice. (It felt like home.)

-

"I want Dream to burn." The thought was sudden but absolute, albeit a startling one to have when going ice fishing with your older brother.

"Why?" Ever a man of few words, Techno opted to get straight to the point, already used to the impulsive sentences Tommy would spit out at random points from over a decade of living with him.

"He's the cause of everything. A puppet master. The strings behind it all," he hummed, unhooking the unlucky salmon from his rod and tossing it in a nearby bucket. He felt... oddly calm, if he were to be honest with himself. He wouldn't call it peace, no, it was something far more sinister, like a cat patiently waiting, biding its time watching its prey before it inevitably pounces.

"Blame does not fall on a singular man, you know. Others must still be held accountable for their actions, circumstances be damned."

"I'm well aware of that, Techno, but think about it. If Dream had just been a semi-decent person we never would have fought and L'manburg would never have been founded." He sighed as another fish almost fell for the baited hook but darted away at the last second.

"If Dream hadn't wanted to rule from the start, to hold power over everybody, he never would've encouraged Wil's spiral into insanity. Never would've given him the tools of destruction. Wilby never would have had to be murdered."

"Murdered?" Techno questioned, ruby eyes squinted and brow furrowed. Tommy set the fishing rod down to the side of him, leaning back on his bandaged arms, and gazed towards the cloudy sky. (It looked as if a storm was rolling in.)

"You said it yourself, Tech. Everyone's accountable for their own actions. Wilbur had already hit the button, but Phil didn't have to kill him. He had a choice and he made the wrong fucking one. We could have helped him, but Phil snatched that away before we ever got the chance." He hated saying the words, however true they were. Hated knowing his father was the reason he'd never have his Wilby back. Ghostbur didn't count for much of anything. He couldn't even remember his own name half of the fucking time. He hated knowing that he'd lost more than his brother that day- he'd lost a father as well.

They sat in silence for a long while. It wasn't quite uncomfortable, but it was tense and heavy and spoke all the words they could never utter themselves.

"If we control Dream, we control everything," he said, eyes closed as he bathed in the barest hint of sunlight that had shone through a break in the cloud cover.

"That doesn't sound very anti-government to me, Toms."

"No, no, you're not getting it. If we control everything, it means that there doesn't have to be a government because there's no puppet master behind everything. Everyone can just do their own fuckass thing, free of rule. Us controlling Dream means we can make that a reality."

"Fuckass?" the piglin snorted. "Where in the Nether did you learn that one?"

"Bitch." It had been a very long time since he'd heard such a full-bellied chuckle from Techno. It was loud in its own quiet, somber way, the way his presence always spoke volumes but was not physically overbearing. It was raspy and hearty and the way his eyes scrunched and his lips curved upwards reminded him of simpler times. (Times where they were all together, through thick and thin, no matter what.)

"How do you plan to do that? Dream is no easy man to beat, let alone deceive, after all," Techno rasped after calming himself, the barest hint of a smile still resting on his scarred face. (Techno needed to shave. The pink hair on his jaw was beyond stubble at this point.)

"Why the fuck would I know what to do, Bitch." He'd never planned a war before. Sure, he had been _in_ them, and technically he had been Wilbur's right-hand man, but he was never a part of the preparations- not really.

"Get a new insult, brat." The hybrid reached over and ruffled his hair, cackling at the squawk of indignation Tommy let out, batting his massive hand away.

"You'll help me though, right?" He whispered after they had both gone back to fishing. (He still had no luck. Why was he so bad at this? It was _so_ much easier to just wade into a river and grab the slippery fuckers.)

" 'Course. Imagine all the clout I'll get."

"Nevermind. I hate you and I never want to see you again."


End file.
